


Lazy Sundays

by Periwinkle_paulie



Category: The Beatles (Band)
Genre: Bottom Paul McCartney, Cute Paul McCartney, John's a huge sweetie, M/M, PWP, Paul's a princess, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Protective John Lennon, The Author Regrets Nothing, Top John Lennon, fluffy sex, paul's trans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-27
Updated: 2020-08-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:27:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26135749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Periwinkle_paulie/pseuds/Periwinkle_paulie
Summary: In the mornings, Paul just looks so pretty, doesn't he?At least John thinks so.
Relationships: Cynthia Lennon/John Lennon, George Harrison & John Lennon & Paul McCartney & Ringo Starr, George Harrison/Ringo Starr, Jane Asher/Paul McCartney, John Lennon & Paul McCartney, John Lennon/Paul McCartney, John Lennon/Yoko Ono, Linda McCartney/Paul McCartney
Comments: 9
Kudos: 41





	Lazy Sundays

**Author's Note:**

> I probably dragged a shit ton lmao. However, I enjoyed writing this a lot! Hopefully y'all enjoy too <3
> 
> -Evelyn

When golden sun rays flooded the small, vacant room, John unintentionally scrunched his features, annoyed. His eyes fluttered open, and as soon as John caught Paul’s relaxed, content features, all of his frustration left his body, left him feeling nothing but the warm, benevolent passion that had accompanied his body ever since he laid eyes on the beautiful boy next to him.

It worried john in a way, how Paul could just look at him, and John’s legs would become melted to the ground; however, at the same time, it was therapeutic, and instead left John feeling with an extensive amount of tranquility. 

John, without thinking, grazed his hand against the soft, plush curve of Paul’s cheek, appreciating every blemish, every freckle etched into his skin. That was, before Paul’s lovely eyelashes curled, and he was glued to those big, hypnotizing eyes staring back at him. And, before John could blink, he remembered why he fell so madly in love with the boy all bunched up in his ivory sheets. 

“Good morning, my beautiful princess,” John whispered, his voice as soft as the silk feathers on a white dove. Paul’s cheeks were so quick to oblige, to flush and create that unforgettable shade of pink that only he could create, and that smile! That wonderful smile, John always felt like he was dreaming whenever he saw it.

“Johnny,” Paul beckoned, trim fingers exploring John’s jaw, into his mess of auburn curls. If John was not fawning before, that movement—all on its own—was enough to have John melting against the satin sheets. He wished he could spend all day in bed with just his husband, but it was only a dream that he would hope, one day, become true. He wanted to grow up with Paul, he wanted to grow old in their house, and share their last breath together. However, again, it was only a hope that he could wish upon living. 

John saw a world in Paul’s eyes, and he could simply not believe that he was living in that world, breathing in Paul’s luxurious oxygen that seemed to have greater value than just regular air. “Y’know that I love you?” Paul asked, keeping John away from his hyperactive mind, reminding him just how lucky he had gotten.

“Of course I do; ye tell me so every second of the day.” John chuckled warmly, his hand exploring the ample curves of Paul’s hips, pulling him impossibly closer, and their lips brushing into a synchronized gesture, leaving them both into the cumbersome drawl of their bodies.  
John spoke up once the urge for oxygen consumed him, forced their lips to part away from the warm attack. “And I love you—but, I think I favour your cunt just a bit more..” he trailed off, chuckling as his shy husband struck him across his shoulder, not nearly hard enough to cause honest damage.

“Dirty!” Paul scolded, almost as if John was a disobedient child, but even with his childishly driven husband, he did not have any intention of pushing John off, even when John shifted on top of him.

Love had its disadvantages, and one of them happened to be John’s raunchy sex drive. It wasn’t that Paul didn’t enjoy it. It just seemed to be a need for John, something that he could not simply ignore because the thought of ravishing his poor little Paul was enough to get him going. “I am not dirty,” John defended, his palms smoothing down the sheet lines engraved into the brunette’s skin, appreciating, marveling, at how incredibly soft he was. “I am just fluent in appreciating beautiful things.”

Although Paul felt warried, the pressure between his thighs reminded him that he had greater things to worry about than just silly fatigue. So, instead of protesting, Paul’s back ran flush against the airy mattress beneath him, thighs wantonly parting, and allowing John to comfortably sit between them. 

Every ounce of trust escorted every fiber in Paul’s body. He had no doubt in his mind that his husband wouldn’t hurt him. 

John planted slow, gentle kisses down the ivory canvas of the curvature of Paul’s neck, exploring the empty skin, and leaving wine coloured hickeys in his wake. The discolouration of the brunette’s flesh was rewarding enough, but John shot for Paul’s encouraging noises, to know that he was successfully pleasuring the gracious boy beneath him.

And, as John expected, he heard the faint, soft mewls emitting from Paul’s throat, and, in turn, John’s stomach broke out into an army of butterflies, fluttering their way up into his chest. Paul was more than just a good fuck. He was John’s everything, and John would do anything to make sure he was safe, make sure that he was properly cared for, and most of all: loved.

“I love you, Paulie,” John whispered, smiling against Paul’s flushed neck, drinking in the sounds of Paul, the expensive scents that John accompanied with only good attributes of his beautiful husband. “I love you so much.”

Physically, John felt Paul’s thighs tighten around his narrow hips, their chests brushing and forcing John to acknowledge the quick up and down strokes of Paul’s chest. His poor baby—already so breathless due to mere strokes of his lips. John lured his husband into another gentle kiss, tugging at the smaller boy’s lower lip as his fingertips plucked the soft fabric from Paul’s body. John was left awestruck, always so surprised whenever he got Paul shirtless, always wanting to fawn over the ivory skin that was imprisoned by Paul’s shirt that insisted on covering the boy’s flush tummy.

When he sensed Paul’s discomfort, he resumed touching, caressing, at any piece of flesh that he could grip and admire. 

Paul loved to whine and wriggle beneath John’s touch to get whatever he wanted, but it was John’s fault for always giving in to him.  
The backs of john’s knuckles traveled north, wanting to explore the swells of Paul’s chest, and the more John groped, the more Paul squirmed underneath him. Paul was always so eager to obtain the shit that he knew that his body yearned for the most.

“John, c’mon,” Paul attempted to hurry along, but John made no sudden move to give into Paul’s pleas. He wished to take his time.

Exploring just a tad bit lower, John grazed the rough edges of his teeth against the subtle indents of Paul’s ribcage, kissing, prodding at each empty space with his warm tongue, and the serious stain in Paul’s knickers told John that he was doing everything right. John, just to tease, conducted a hand to hover slightly lower, across Paul’s navel, between his thighs to the frilly exterior of the boy’s knickers, and, experimentally, he greeted Paul’s eager bud with slow, consistent strokes, an approving hum leaving John’s own lips when he felt just how slick Paul’s folds felt against his fingers.

“Y’like that?” John chuckled, in response to the delicate noises that practically rolled off of the brunette’s tongue. It was not a question at this point, it was solely a symbolic strategy of acknowledgment. 

With the uttermost certainty of humane, John peeled away the stubborn piece of fabric blocking Paul’s heat, smudging a trail of arousal down the pale curves of Paul’s generous thighs, and causing John’s cock to twitch into the thick material of his boxers. Slowly, John started to discard square inch of clothing covering his own figure, almost compelled to smile when he spotted Paul’s own little grin. The fact that Paul reciprocated the passionate love that John had made John’s heart dance in his chest. 

“You are so beautiful.” The boy beneath him whispered, and a soft, demure smile stretched the curves of John’s thin lips. “There it is, my silly man. Your smile helps me get up in the mornings.” John instantly went in for a peck, only pulling away to instead shift the kisses to someplace elsewhere, which just so happened to be the entirety of Paul’s face. Everywhere that John could get ahold of, it was left uncovered: his eyelids, nose, jawline; everything. How could John simply resist his whole being?

Glancing down at Paul’s glistening thighs, John focused his attention on his fingertips, teasing them with the pink, outer skin of Paul’s entrance, and his breath obediently synched with Paul’s, nearly gasping when his digits brushed past the brunette’s slick hole. It was difficult for John to remain gentle, but he kept hold of his self-control.

“Does that feel okay?” John asked, concerned, eloquently beginning to brush his wrist back, initiating a slow pace. He was worried that he was somehow hurting Paul, but the flushed skin of Paul’s otherwise ivory cheeks showcased how much he was enjoying himself. Paul’s dark hair elegancy fell against the pillow beneath him, his breasts falling and rising with each stroke of John’s skilled fingertips, noises dripping from Paul’s glittering tongue, invitingly rolling his hips back into his husband’s wrist.

John distractedly swiped the stray drool rolling down Paul’s chin, initiating another kiss that he was already becoming hungry for. Once their lips parted, Paul released the iron grip of his thighs from around John’s waist, only just to tighten them once more. How was he expected to stay still? “I need you,” Paul whined, but was shushed by another luxurious brushing of John’s mouth.

“Ah,” John scolded, curling his fingers, smudging his fingerprint along the rough bundle of skin which, with Paul’s encouraging noises, convinced John that it was the special place that Paul was begging him to touch this entire time. Although John pined at the thought of making Paul wait, he could not deny that he needed it just as badly—if not more—as Paul. 

John withdrew his fingers once he knew that Paul relaxed against the mattress, when he was no longer trying to grind and take in more of the girth of John’s fingers. “Alright, fine.” John pouted, pretending as if it was entirely his idea rather than Paul’s, but Paul recognized John’s actions tremendously.

As aroused as John was, he positioned his hips against his husband’s, breathing heavily as he slowly pressed into Paul’s wet cavern. It took every part of his being to stay still and wait for Paul’s cue; no matter how many times they were intimate, it was still a reoccurring struggle for John to keep his hips steady, to resist the urge and not relentlessly pound in the warmth tensing around his cock.

Once a couple of frustrating seconds past, Paul eventually nodded, signaling John that he could—finally—move. However, even with the reassuring nod, John was still as gentle as he could possibly be when he eventually started to rotate his hips.

It was a rewarding sight that John never got sick of, when Paul’s head would relax against the pillow sheet beneath his head, and his eyelashes would brush against the warm, red apples of his cheeks. 

John gently guided his hands onto the pliable swells of the brunette’s chest, giving each of his lovely breasts a generous squeeze, evoking a noise of approval from his blushing bride. Even with the lewdest of noises, Paul never failed to take his breath away. Every night with Paul, it was like his first, had John struggling to keep composure and not finish from the mere contortions of Paul’s face. 

John dropped a free hand between Paul’s thighs, rubbing at the sensitive bud between the boy’s thighs, wanting to elicit more of a reaction out of him, and Paul’s little legs reacted within the same time frame of him dropping his hand, tensing roughly around both John and the circumference of John’s hips. With Paul, it never took long before he finished, and this time seemed to be exactly like that.

“John-“

With an almost pained gasp, Paul shifted beneath John’s touch, whining and flinching away on instinct, eventually becoming one with the warmth swarming in his stomach, his toes curling, and him tensing around his husband’s cock as he let out his final breath, spilling all over John’s torso, the large canvas of his thighs.

Unable to keep his own hips restrained any longer, John sped up into the warmth around him, his body trembling as he eventually froze where he was, his fingernails tensing against Paul’s hips as he rode out his own orgasm, panting when he felt Paul tense around him once more, the smaller boy’s name engraved on his breath, leaving him panting and expanding his lungs with much-needed oxygen.

Slowly, John pulled out of his husband, a lazy smile plastered all over both of their faces. After cleaning up with a shirt nearby, John flopped down on the mattress next to his beloved, chuckling as Paul went to cuddle up to his side, legs wrapping around John’s waist protectively.

“I love you,” John sighed, relaxing into the mess of the sheets, and bringing an arm around his husband’s dainty shoulders.

“I love you too, you stinker.”


End file.
